


Rain

by querencia



Series: he turns me to gold in the sunlight [8]
Category: DC Cinematic Universe, Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: Blood, Dirty Talk, F/M, Face Slapping, Gun Kink, Gunplay, Hallucinations, Insanity, Oral Sex, Riding, Rough Sex, Scratching, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 05:47:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7832686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/querencia/pseuds/querencia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She is the Queen of Gotham, and Queens don't bow to anybody.</p><p>(I said prepare for some dark sexy sequels didn't I?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crazylikelouis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazylikelouis/gifts).



> #TeamDuchess
> 
> Dedicated to the always amazing crazylikelouis whose support and feedback fuels the series. She asked for darker Duchess, and I promised to deliver! ;)
> 
> Please let me know what you think - The support of this series is what keeps it alive!

You watched Gotham City from the window. Drop after drop hammered down like an applause upon the glass. There was something about it that was intrinsically calming, and your head tilted to the side, lips parted. You touched the cool misted surface, tracing the stream with your fingertip. The coolness of the glass spread up your finger and shot up your arms, over your shoulders and down your back. You shivered, like someone was walking over your grave, and then your brain tilted sideways like a room from Alice in Wonderland. A pulsing, spinning dizziness. Down, _down_ , **_down_** _and then--_

Your father's hand encased your own upon the glass and you giggled. The sound echoed in your head like a roll of thunder, and then faded away. You felt Papa's chin on your shoulder; the usual scratch of his facial hair, and the familiar musk of his cologne.

"Pick a droplet, sweetheart." He said. You could hear the smile in his voice, warm and soft like the narrative to a beloved childhood story. "We'll race them."

You sucked your lower lip between your teeth, red lipstick rubbing off on the white enamel. You picked a droplet, which you traced with the pad of your fingertip down, down, down the glass with your Papa's hand following suit. Faster and faster the droplets went, and you squealed happily when your droplet streaked past his.

"I win Papa!" You beamed.

"Yes, darling. _You win..."_ Papa smiled.

You turned to look at him but he faded away like the blur of heat you see above tarmac on a hot day. His physicality slipped through your fingers like ashes and his voice disappeared forever in an echoing chant that got deeper and deeper until your head was spinning. Round and around like a vertiginous pirouette that had you bracing yourself against the window until two two arms encased your waist and brought you crashing back to reality with ringing ears and a dizzy smile.

The men you had killed were slumped upon the floor around you. Their blood soaked the floor, their bodies, you, and the window you stood before like a visceral rainstorm. Blood was not like water. It was thicker, and stickier. It dripped down the window slowly, like treacle, and it was entrancing. You traced the droplets down the window and felt Mister J draw in a breath behind you.

"You're such a good girl for Daddy, Duchesss..." His fingers danced slowly up and down your arms, and your enthralled expression became one of elation. You turned in Mister J's arms and grinned impishly. You pulled him down onto your lips, and your enthusiasm made his eyes wild with ardour. He pushed you up against the window and you could feel the blood soaking into the expensive fabric of [your dress](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/5c/99/e6/5c99e6d5831c74111868ef6f76a9241c.jpg). Mouths open, tongues touching, warm lips encompassed your own, and kept you in a blissful state. Your slender fingers tightened around his vibrant green hair, ruining the slicked back neatness of it as you tugged on the ends just hard enough to have Mister J growling approvingly against your lips. Your eyes dashed with excitement, meeting his for only a second of impish delight before they fluttered shut and his desire burned hotter. He pulled you closer and closer, until the only thing between you was your clothes.

The penthouse in which you stood used to belong to one of the most powerful politicians in Gotham City. Emphasis on _'used'_. You hadn't been surprised at how easy it was to kill. How the recoil on a revolver could make your heart hammer like a bass drum. It felt like gospel. Like this was who you were, and all it had taken was Mister J peeling back to layers to show you that. _To enlighten you._

Your clothes Mister J makes quick work of. He is the King of Gotham City, and he kneels to nobody, except for his Queen. He sinks to his knees in front of you and you watch him on his decent through half lidded eyes. He smears red lipstick down both of your inner thighs, cool tattooed hands pushing the fabric of your dress up your legs as he spreads them apart roughly with both hands.

"I like this dress, Duchessss." He croons and you giggle down at him.

"Every girl has to have a little black dress, Daddy!" You snigger. "Besides, you told me to get all dolled up for date night."

"That I did, Duchess. That I _diiiid."_ Joker laughs between your legs. His fingers dance against your skin and then suddenly his mouth is on your centre. He bites at the juncture between your thighs and your knees nearly crumble. To steady yourself you fist your hands in his hair and throw your head back against the window in delight. His tongue traces your glistening folds and when the hot muscle lathes at your clit and his silver teeth drag over the hood you let out a shuddering gasp.

"O-Oh God, Daddy!"

Mister J can bring you to the edge with his lips alone in minutes. and then, cackling, he simply draws back and watches you writhe in frustration against the glass. When you whine in protest he sinks his teeth into the flesh of your inner thigh and you yelp in pain as he leaves red train-track marks of his teeth on the skin.

"Behave, Duchess!" He snaps. "You come when Daddy tells you to."

Hot and wet his tongue comes down over your centre again, drags up and down until he picks up the pace. His head nods between your thighs, his hands leaving fingerprints on your thighs which he keeps pinned to the sticky red glass behind you. You cry out pathetically, gripping his hair tightly and keeping his head in place with desperation as he fucks you open with his tongue. You beg, of course. You know how much Mister J loves to hear you beg and you hope he will take mercy, but three times your breathy pleas fall on deaf ears. His head bumps against your trembling knees as he coaxes that warm tempting grasp of desire right to the edge, before pulling away with his head thrown back in laughter. You cry out through gritted teeth and slam your head back against the window in frustration.

_And then something snaps._

It's a red mist that unchains a certain madness in you, further down in the pits of you than you had ever delved. Your eyes darken as your pupils drown your iris' in their blackness, and in one swift motion you grab Mister J by the shoulders - nails dipping deep red crescents into the skin hard enough to make the grooves weep with blood - and you turn, slamming _him_  against the window and seizing the gun from the holsters on his chest. You press the gun to his cranium, panting, and Mister J stares up at you. Stares like he is watching an Angel shed it's skin. His eyes glitter with an excitement you have never witnessed before, and the corner of your mouth curls up into a wicked smile.

"You're gonna make me come." You say to him slowly. You cock the gun against he tattoo on his forehead and watch the Clown Prince of Gotham City nod slowly beneath you, grinning from ear to ear. His fingers curl around your thighs, and his mouth brings you to hell and back. There's a tightness sitting like a ball in your abdomen. It burns with a fire that alights your soul. The flames lick up your throat, and rest on your burning tongue which wrenches with his name.

"Oh _fuck_ , Daddy! _God!_ Fuck! Yes! _Pleasepleaseplease_ \-- _**FUCK!**_ Don't you dare stop. I'll fucking _kill you_ if you stop! **_M-i-i-ista J!"_**

You've never heard the Joker laugh harder. He grins against your aching sex, nipping at your swollen lips just hard enough to hurt as he punishes your clit with his tongue.

"Come for me Duchess." He hisses, like a command. And you are forced to obey. You shriek wildly, clawing at his hair and your knuckles go white against the grip of the pistol. You ride out your orgasm shamelessly on his face in a wet rush that means he comes up with his jaw soaked in your juices, cackling manically and breathlessly he stands.

You stare at him, lips parted and pupils blown. You don't give him chance to say anything. In an instant you throw yourself at him - arms around his neck - and Mister J wets his lips and seizes you like he could read your mind. Your lips collide like a car crash, and the cocked pistol falls to the floor. The kiss is bruising, painful, and hotter than the core of the earth. Joker's metal teeth clash against yours, leaving a dull ache in your gums which you counter by sinking your teeth into his tongue until you feel the metallic tang of red liquid drip down your chin. The blood mixes with your juices that coat Mister J's jaw and he pulls away from you with a snarl.

_**CRACK.** _

His ring leaves a scratch on your cheek that has your head reeling, and you throw your head back and laugh open-mouthed; his blood seeping down your chin as he drags you back to him grinning dangerously. You press his bleeding tongue to the roof of his mouth as yours pushes beyond his teeth. As your mouths fight for dominance, your hands are on every inch of each other, scratching clawing at any fabric they come into contact with. Your dress falls away at Joker's hand, and you tear his shirt clean down the middle like an animal, leaving deep grooves in his chest from your nails in the process. Your scratches have Mister J hissing against your teeth as he wrangles you up against the window and slices your bra open with a knife from his belt, as you turn and yank his dress pants down mercilessly. 

"You gonna fuck me, Mister J?" You ask darkly, his face gripped in both of your hands, noses touching. Your faces are red with blood and velvet-effect lipstick and sticky with bodily fluids. Your lip curls, like it's a challenge and the Joker's nostrils flare.

"That's not what you call me, Duchess!" He growls. "You call me, Daddy and you know that."

 _"Make me."_ You whisper against his lips.

The Joker's eyes flicker with an anger you rarely see directed at you, and you _thrive_ on it. Your eyes widen with excitement and you giggle against his mouth, almost a cackle. Your laughter is cut short when Mister J bites mercilessly at your bottom lip until you are shrieking and clawing at his shoulders. Your mouth fills with blood and you shriek in protest against Mister J's lips when he brings them crashing down onto yours possessively. You yank yourself back and spit your own blood up into his face like a demon. The blood soaks your teeth, and you grin wickedly.

"Naughty, _naughty_ girl..." Mister J says slowly, his red lips curling slowly into a smile which strikes fear into the hearts of Gotham city. " _This_ is my Queen."

You wet your bloodied lips, and giggle like a naughty child. You can feel Mister J's cock against your thigh; rock hard, stiff, and leaking. This is a side to you that perhaps Mister J has always seen when no-one else had. He cultivated it in you like a seed, and watched it grow. Now you were in full bloom. You weren't a Duchess anymore. You were a _Queen,_ and you sit on his lap like it's your throne. You wrangle Mister J down onto the floor, raking your talons down [his shoulders](https://67.media.tumblr.com/2d90e434ce05160483c9b4202c6cc05a/tumblr_ni0kghvHfS1u4qg7vo1_500.jpg), as you impale yourself on his cock. You both cry out like animals. Your spine curls against him, and you brace yourself on his shoulders. He sits with his back to the window, legs splayed out beneath your body as you grind down on his dick with your head falling forward.

"Say my name, baby girl" Mister J snarls, grabbing you by the hair and forcing your head back. You grin down at him, eyes fluttering back as Mister J angled his hips upwards so that the head of his cock went slamming into your g-spot every time you brought your hips down on his cock.

"Ahh! _God!"_ You sob, dragging your nails across his shoulders and marring [his back.](https://66.media.tumblr.com/cd9c44901979e68386b096d309884e12/tumblr_nplb5woWtK1rkjsbzo1_500.jpg)

"Hmm, not _quite_ Duchess." He grinned impishly.

"Joker!" You screamed out.

"I can't hear you, Duchess." He cackled darkly.

_**"Joker!"** _

You scream it so loudly that it makes your throat ache. Grinning madly, eyes gleaming, Mister J loosens his hold on your hair only to bring his hand down sharply on your ass. You yelp at the burning contact on your skin and slam your palms against his chest, forcing him back against the window as you shamelessly seek your own orgasm on his dick.

"Hmm, I can _feeeeel_  you Duchesss..." Joker leered. "You gonna come again? What a _slut._ Go on. Come for me. Come on my cock like the little slut that yo-"

_**CRACK.** _

Your nails leave four perfect scratches across Mister J's cheek, and he stares up at you in awe. His grin becomes wider than ever before and he forces your body up as close to his as physically possible so that he can swallow your moans on his tongue. At this angle, the taught skin of Joker's tattooed lower abdomen grazes sinfully against your clit with every buck of your hips, and has spots of white-hot pleasure bursting behind your eyes. You scream against his mouth, and soaked in blood you shake in his lap like you'd been hit by lightning. Mister J had never seen anything like it; It was like watching a wild animal thrashing in his lap, and oh you left your mark on him that night: Your claws marred his back, his chest, his shoulders and his left cheek. What finally throws him over the edge though is when you suck at his neck with an obscenely erotic wet noise, still quivering with the aftershocks of your visceral orgasm, and leave your final mark on him for all the world to see.

"I'm all yours, Daddy..." You hum against his ear, drawing the cartilage between your bloodstained teeth as you allow him the title which makes him yours above all else. You let his painfully stiff cock slide out of your slick canal and grind yourself down along the length of his cock. Up and down, tortuously drawing out his pleasure as his hands leave bruises on your ass that would last weeks.

"C'mon Daddy. Come for me. I've been so good your you. Come for me. Now. Do it. For me, Daddy."

Joker's release hits him in every inch of his body. It explodes in every nerve, every vein, and with what could only be described as a _roar_ , which echoes off the walls, his cock gives one last violent twitch between your bodies, and splatters your stomach with pump after pump of sticky white come which just keeps coming until his member is softening and spent.

Breathless, skin rusted with blood, you stand.

Mister J watches you from the floor, propped up on his elbows. His chest gleaming with sweat and rising and falling rapidly as he pushes his messy green hair from his forehead. Barefoot, golden, illuminated in crimson from the sunset streaming through the bloodied window you walk naked and stained red to the centrepiece of the ruin you had created. There was the lead politician of Gotham which had tried to defeat the King and Queen of Gotham; strung up from the ceiling like a piece of meat in a butcher's shop. You bend down to your handbag, which was left neatly on the desk (slightly bloodstained) and took from it a can of black spray paint. You step up onto the chair, then the desk, and you are at eye-line with the bloodied figure of Gotham's senator. Eyes gleaming with excitement, you shake the can in your fist a few times and then decorate his bloody chest with a message:

_'Catch us if you can Batsy! XOXO'_

You sign it with a _'J + D'_ , enclosed within a heart like graffiti on the back of a toilet door, and step back to admire your handiwork. You hear Mister J's laughter from behind you and you cannot help but join him. You grin from ear-to-ear and turn, barefoot on the blood-soaked desk. You make a show of taking a theatrical bow, and hop down from the table with feline elegance. [Your dress](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/5c/99/e6/5c99e6d5831c74111868ef6f76a9241c.jpg) has been abandoned on the floor in a pool of black silk, and you shimmy back into it. Mister J watches you, of course, and you let him. (You're his to adore, after all).

You pick up your [Louboutin's](https://secure.static.tumblr.com/6df43c26f87da76f13a01128acd6de03/yydb4nz/1bHnn8osz/tumblr_static_tumblr_static__640.jpg) in one hand, and [your revolver](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/7a/51/de/7a51de32067de156754c88261a813891.jpg) in the other. You look over your shoulder at Mister J with with a mischievous smile and in a singsong tone:

"You comin'?"

"Course I am Duchess." He grins. "Let's go home."


End file.
